


Thanks

by Gwenhwyfar1984



Series: Cas and the Holidays [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Friendship, Gen, Human Castiel, No Slash, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenhwyfar1984/pseuds/Gwenhwyfar1984
Summary: Castiel researches human holidays and decides to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. AU





	Thanks

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For those that did not read Fear, Bubbles is a red Betta fish that Castiel won at a Halloween festival.

Castiel sat at his desk absently watching television on the internet. He was alone in the bunker. Sam and Dean had gone on a hunt a few states away. He had offered to go with them, of course. After all, they had started training him in hunting. Instead of saying yes, they assigned him to stay in the bunker and do research if they called and needed it. So far they had not, and their last call had indicated they were heading home soon.  
So Castiel had been spending his days on his new laptop and Sam’s Netflix account. He found that he enjoyed “family dramas” the best. The crises that the families encountered seemed so simple, and almost everything was solved by the end of the episode or season. He also thought that it was finally a good insight into human customs.

The crisis this family was suffering through involved some kind of feast holiday called Thanksgiving. The mother and daughters were hurriedly trying to cook many delicious looking dishes. The father and sons were watching and then playing football. Long lost relatives visited and created tension.

After the episode was over he researched Thanksgiving. The origins seemed to go back to the days of the colonization of the United States. Apparently the Indigenous population of the country had assisted the colonists in their survival. The “first thanksgiving” had been a celebration of that cooperation. He frowned, knowing—having witnessed—the end result of that alliance, and almost abandoned his research. After further reading, however, he discovered that the holiday had evolved into a celebration of family and gratitude. He liked that idea. A quick date check showed that Thanksgiving was the coming Thursday. That made up his mind. He was going to cook a Thanksgiving meal for the Winchesters and himself.

What he had thought would be a quick internet search turned out to be a long project. First, he had to choose the meat. Turkey, or duck, or ham. There was also a strange creation called Turducken that he was sure was not natural… After choosing the meat there was deciding the type of stuffing, then the sides, and finally the dessert. It was a daunting task for someone who had never experienced Thanksgiving, and who was still getting used to the idea of needing to eat.  
Finally, Cas decided to stick to tradition. Turkey, bread dressing, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, and pie.

The Winchesters had left him with 20 dollars in cash and a credit card in case of an emergency. He had experienced shopping enough that he knew the 20 dollars would not be enough for what he had planned. So he took the credit card and matching fake identification and went grocery shopping.

Two hours later Castiel returned to the bunker with his groceries, grateful to be back. The shopping expedition had been nothing like his previous ones. It had been more crowded, and he vaguely suspected that the citizens of Lebanon had been under some kind of witch’s spell. They had been pushy and extremely grumpy. A fight had even broken out in the produce section over the last of the fresh cranberries. Thankfully, he had been able to get all of the items on his list with little fuss.

That night as he was laying in bed reading, he got a text message from Sam telling him that the brothers should be back in two days. The timing was perfect. He would have dinner ready and on the table when they got home.

o.O.o

The next day Castiel began to cook. The recipe told him that he could prepare the pie a day early. Knowing how much Dean loved alcohol, he decided on a brandied pecan pie. The recipe called for a homemade crust, but at the store he had found crust already prepared. That seemed to be a simpler solution. Carefully following the instructions, he mixed the ingredients. Now he needed to add the teaspoons of brandy. Carefully he opened the bottle and took a sniff. It smelled good so he measured out teaspoons.  
After a moment's hesitation he took a sip from the bottle. He had tasted brandy before, but that had been when he was an angel...and on a bender. In addition to tasting of molecules it had blended in with the rest of the contents of the liquor store.  
This was delicious. The flavours overwhelmed his taste buds and he took another drink.  
Now feeling slightly warm for some reason he finished the pie and slid it into the preheated oven.  
As he put the items back in the pantry, he took another couple of swallows of brandy.

Castiel awoke to the scent of something burning. He realised that he was seated at the kitchen table, his head pillowed on his arms. Looking around in confusion he figured out that the smell was coming from the oven. Standing a little shakily, he turned off the oven and opened the door. A cloud of smoke burst out, making him cough. Waving a towel to clear it, he saw the pie. Remembering that he could now get burned, he grabbed pot holders and carefully took the ruined dessert out of the oven. The crust was dark brown and the pecans were blackened. Disappointed, he set the pie on the counter. He didn't have enough ingredients to make another one, and there was no way that he was going back to the grocery store. They would just have to go without pie.  
Before leaving the kitchen he poured the rest of the brandy down the sink.

o.O.o

Awakening early the next morning, Cas found that he was excited. It was Thanksgiving. After attending to his morning grooming, he fed Bubbles. He decided to give the fish some frozen brine shrimp instead of the usual generic betta flakes. Bubbles deserved to celebrate Thanksgiving too.  
Taking his laptop into the kitchen, he set it on a live feed of the traditional Thanksgiving Day parade. Turning up the songs of the pre-parade musical acts, he began to cook the feast.

Carefully he cleaned and dried the turkey. The directions said something about “neck and giblets” but as far as he could tell, there had been no extras in the package. He frowned. Had he got a defective bird? It seemed all right though, so he continued his preparations.  
There had been hundreds of glazes and rubs, and spice mixes to choose from for flavouring the turkey. Finally he had chosen a brown sugar glaze at random. It seemed simple to do and sounded tasty.

For the next few hours he meticulously set the alarm on his cell phone to make sure he brushed the glaze on the turkey at the right times. He had bought a meat thermometer and the bird was cooking at the right temperatures. He had read that food poisoning was very easy to get on Thanksgiving, and he did not want to do that to the brothers.  
A little before the turkey was due to be done he got started on the bread dressing, mashed potatoes and green beans. After checking the fridge and pantry he changed the potatoes to garlic flavoured mashed potatoes.

Finally, his feast was complete. The turkey was a perfect golden brown and heated to the precice right temperature. The dressing lightly toasted on the top layer. The mashed potatoes were creamy and lump free. The green beans slightly crisp but fully cooked and swimming in butter.  
He found a large white cloth in storage and set it over one of the tables in the library. Researching some more, he found out how to properly set a table. Briefly, he felt a surge of panic when he realised that he had forgotten beverages, but there was some beer in the fridge. Not traditional, but it would do.  
Finished, he sat down with his laptop and turned on the traditional Thanksgiving football game.

o.O.o

The football game was nearly over when the Winchesters entered the bunker.  
“What's that smell?” Castiel heard Dean ask Sam as they came down the staircase. They entered the library and saw the table. “Cas? What's going on?”  
“It's Thanksgiving. I have prepared a traditional meal for us,” he answered with a smile.  
Dean looked down at the fast food bag and soda container in his hands. Sam's eyebrows rose and he stepped closer to the table.  
“You...you did?” Sam asked.  
Cas nodded. “Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cranberry sauce. Although the cranberry sauce is canned, not fresh. Did you know that shopping before Thanksgiving can result in battle among humans?”  
The brothers still looked stunned. Finally Dean replied. “We haven't witnessed that for ourselves, but it's pretty well known. Cas, why didn't you tell us you had this planned? We could have saved you the trouble. Thanksgiving is not really something we celebrate.”

Castiel could understand that. The holiday was one celebrated at home with family. Neither of those was something the brothers had ever really had.  
“I understand. I'm sorry. I had read that Thanksgiving was when you let others know what you are grateful for. I'm very grateful you two have taken me in and are teaching me how to be human. This was my way of saying thank you.” He gave them a small smile even though he felt disappointed and embarrassed. “The food is in the kitchen. I'm very tired now from being up early. I'll see you tomorrow morning.”  
He was hungry but did not feel like eating any of his preparations alone, and it was obvious the brothers had already eaten. So he simply completed his before bed grooming and went to sleep.

o.O.o

The next day he stayed in his room reading and watching tv. Bubbles kept him company, coming to the front of his tank and fluttering his fins at him. Castiel knew that eventually he would have to face the brothers, but he wanted to put it off as long as possible.

Around late afternoon the scent of roasted turkey caught his attention. He left his room and entered the library. The table was set exactly how he had prepare it. Only now the three plates were full of the foods he had cooked the day before.  
“It's about time,” Dean said, passing Cas a beer and gesturing to a chair. “I'm starving.”  
“I don't understand,” Castiel said, sitting down.  
“It's Thanksgiving dinner.”  
“It's the day after—“  
“It's Thanksgiving dinner,” Dean said firmly, sitting down next to him. San entered the room carrying a dish. He set it down and Cas saw it was a fresh pumpkin pie. “Yeah, we found your pie. What the hell happened, man?”  
“I got intoxicated and fell asleep,” he said. “You don't have to do this.”  
“Shut up,” Dean said, picking up his fork.  
“What Dean means is, we're new to this too. And we're grateful that you thought of this for us. Sorry for ruining your surprise.”  
“Yeah, next time you want to surprise us, call first, okay?”  
That would not make it a surprise, but he didn't correct his friend. Instead he began to eat his mean and enjoyed the company of his friends.  
Or were they family?

 


End file.
